Vulcans Are Liars: Everything changes for 13 year old Michael Burnham
by Thunderman1
Summary: Michael Burnham is 13 years old and living happily on Vulcan with her adoptive parents. But her whole life is about to change...


Pass or Fail. These were the only two possible results. Three million Vulcans, and one human, would be seeing one of these words displayed on their data pads that morning. Two percent would see Pass. Ninety eight percent would see Fail. The exams for entry into the Captain's training program were necessarily rigorous. Vulcan standards were high.

Michael looked at her data pad that was waiting on the table. Eight minutes ago it had chimed, indicating that the Academy was sending her results. As soon as she had heard the chime, curiosity had started to rise within her, and she had found herself compelled to glance at the data pad twenty four times during those eight minutes. She knew that her Vulcan classmates would have succumbed to their curiosity long ago, and that now ninety eight percent of them would be attempting to suppress the unpleasant emotions that their failure in the exams had created. She was anticipating that she would be experiencing some more pleasing emotions when she saw her exam results, but she preferred to resist the urge to rush towards such a welcome experience. She knew that the results would not change with the passage of time, and impatience, it had often been taught to her, was a fault of the emotions that she should seek to overcome.

However… after the eight minutes had passed, she realized that it was illogical and inefficient to excessively delay necessary duties, and so she decided to reach over the table, pick up the device, and then walk with short, relaxed steps, across the room and towards the window. As she walked her eyes scanned the neat, straight lines formed by her possessions that were secured along the walls, and she noted to herself that she had never seen a Vulcan juvenile's room that was as efficiently and logically arranged as hers.

With her data pad held in both hands she now stood at her window and looked out, squinting and shielding her eyes from the morning sun that had partially risen above the horizon. The acute angle of the sun's rays created long dull shadows across the plains of Vulcan, and gave an orange glow to the buildings that rose in jagged lines along the skyline. She knew that the color of these buildings would change as the sun traveled its daily path across the sky. These changes always happened in a logical sequence. Soon after she had come to live on Vulcan as a child she had commenced her study of this daily sequence of colors, and now she could precisely predict them. If the weather varied, the changing colors would be different. She could accurately predict all of these variations also. She was more accurate with her predictions than even her stepfather Sarek was. And he was the most logical Vulcan on the Supreme Council.

She lifted her data pad up and activated it. Instantly the angular lettering of many Vulcan words started flickering across the screen, and she searched among them until finally she stopped on just one word. The word she was looking at commanded every part of her attention. The word read "Fail."

She held the device in front of her face for a long time, staring at it with disbelief, and then she lowered it and turned away from the window. She knew that Vulcans never made mistakes. Not in her experience among them. Now a Vulcan mistake was being displayed clearly on her data pad. She needed to quickly correct this error. With long steps she crossed her room, sat at her desk, and inserted the data pad into its holder.

She commenced her analysis of the situation. She surmised that even Vulcans must have a structured system of correcting these anomalies. Systems consisted of rules. She would learn what these rules were, follow them, and the mistake would then be quickly rectified. She leaned back into her chair and stretched out her arms across the table, turning her hands so that her palms were facing upwards in what she had always found to be their most relaxed position. Her hands were tired from the many hours of tapping on screens that her studies had required, and now she needed to rest them. She would research with voice commands, and so she began to talk.

"What is the procedure to change an incorrect examination result?" she asked the data pad.

Words started flashing on the screen of the data pad, competing for her attention as she eagerly searched for what she needed. When the words finally stopped flashing she had received no adequate answer to her query. She rephrased the question, and again there was no progress. She allowed herself a frustrated sigh. She would persist until she found the information she needed, and so she began to methodically consider how many varied ways she could ask the same question.

oo oo oo

Her concentration was interrupted by a soft knock at her door. She looked away from the screen of the data pad and towards the door. With tired, heavy eyes, she noted that the door was tinted a late afternoon brown. This color indicated that the sun had moved steadily across the entire sky, from horizon to horizon, during the long period that she had been methodically researching. But she had achieved nothing. She had not found any Vulcan rules for changing exam results. She would do no more work that day, and so she reached out with one hand and shut down her data pad. Now she prepared her mind for the battle that was about to commence. A battle in which logic and method had little importance, because she knew who was at the door and why they were there.

"Enter," she called towards the door.

When the door slid open her stepmother was standing there in her colorful, flowing robes. Today it was yellow, green, blue and red, in geometric patterns. Her stepmother's usual clothing style was both offensive and embarrassing to her, but as always she would try to restrain her emotions, and respectfully converse with her stepmother with the controlled degree of logic expected of any Vulcan teenager.

Her stepmother entered the room, walked a few steps, and then obediently came to a stop two meters inside the doorway. Michael had long ago allocated her a set position in which to stand, as it minimized her tendency to wander aimlessly and disturb the order of things. She looked at her stepmother's face, and noted it displayed its usual indications of emotional uncertainty. The level of tenseness in the lips, in particular, was always the greatest indicator of her stepmother's emotional state. She had also trained her stepmother to get directly to the point in all conversations, as Vulcans would do, and so her stepmother spoke without hesitation.

"Have your exam results come yet?" her stepmother asked.

"Yes," Michael replied.

Her stepmother smiled and seemed pleased at something. "So you've been in your room all day celebrating with your friends?"

"No. I have not."

Her stepmother looked at her with increased emotion in her eyes, but hesitated with her reply. Michael knew that she was considering what would be the least illogical comment she could make.

"That's too bad," she finally said. "I suppose the pass percentage is so low, it's expected that many of your friends would have failed. It was a good thing that they had you to talk to about it all. Maybe you can help them to pass the next exam?"

"There is no next exam," Michael replied. "What would be the logic of encouraging the less capable to attempt tasks that are beyond their abilities?"

"Of course you are correct. Vulcan standards are high... as we all know so very well."

Michael noted the emotion in her stepmother's voice. A small tone of sarcasm, perhaps?

Her stepmother continued, "So what happens to those that failed?"

"They will enter into one of the lower level training programs that are most suited to their abilities."

"Well… that's good then. Everyone gets the position that they deserve. A perfect system for a perfect people," her stepmother stated. And then she laughed very slightly.

Michael listened to these words, and then decided that she would have to inform her stepmother of the true situation. And perhaps ask her advice. She tilted her head up to look more directly at her stepmother, and then said, "No, the system is not perfect. There are mistakes. I have found a mistake."

When Michael said this her stepmother smiled, and replied, "Vulcans don't make mistakes. So what special mistake have you discovered?"

Michael answered, "I have been given a result of fail for the exam."

She watched as her stepmother's face took on an expression of exaggerated sympathy.

"Oh darling..." her stepmother slowly whispered.

Michael felt annoyance growing within her. She did not need sympathy. She needed information. "As I just informed you... there has been a mistake. It is not possible that I have failed. My exam result is a mistake which requires rectification."

Her stepmother walked towards her, getting close enough to embrace her, but did not do so.

"It was such a difficult exam," her stepmother said consolingly. "I'm sure you almost passed. Sarek told me that there are 1,000 questions and if a candidate has only one wrong answer… they fail. Anyone can get one answer wrong with so many questions. Even the best of Vulcans fail. You probably had just one wrong answer."

"I know that I gave no incorrect answers," Michael said defiantly. "I know it as a fact. I knew every question easily. I never guessed. I knew it all."

"Many people are certain they know something... and then later find out they were wrong. Even Sarek has done that."

"Sarek has never done that," Michael corrected her.

Her stepmother backed away until she was once again standing in the allocated position.

"You're only thirteen," she said, with more firmness than was usual. "You're going to have many failures and make many mistakes in your life. Vulcan or human... everyone has to learn to control their feelings of disappointment and accept defeat."

She gazed at Michael with searching eyes, and then she smiled. "You know what the best thing is to change your mood? It's something that always works for me whenever I get stressed. It's my special miracle cure."

Michael gave her a skeptical look. "What would that be?"

"A lovely cup of tea," her stepmother announced. "I'll go make some for the both of us and we'll sit in here and drink it together. Alright darling?"

Michael's annoyance rose to its highest level of the day. This statement was typical of the type of emotional foolishness she had to tolerate during her frequent encounters with her stepmother. She usually tried to overlook these displays of illogical human behavior. But when her stepmother expected Michael to join with her in this madness... it became unacceptable. Her stepmother needed to be reminded often that Michael had been raised Vulcan, and so her behavior was more Vulcan than human.

"Why would a cup of tea possibly alter my emotions? Emotions are a function of a particular situation. Drinking tea does not change any situation. The situation is that my exam results are incorrect. Any emotions I may have in this matter will be corrected when the results are corrected."

Michael finished speaking and looked at her stepmother, who looked back at her, before turning and walking out through the doorway. Soon she returned, carrying two cups of tea.

She held out a cup to Michael. Reluctantly Michael took the cup and waited for her stepmother's next suggested activity.

"Let's talk about the situation over our tea," was what she suggested. "Maybe we can solve it if we work together. Alright?"

Michael considered this suggestion. Her stepmother knew many important people. It was logical that her assistance could be of value. "That would be acceptable," Michael replied.

Her stepmother walked over to the table and gently placed her tea on top of it, and quietly lowered herself into the chair. Michael followed her, and then they started to talk. After fifteen minutes of talking and one call to her school, the situation had progressed, and Michael was subsequently required to transport out of her room.

oo oo oo

Volkots Plaza was busy. It was the final hour of the last day of the school year, and swirling crowds of her fellow students were gracefully scurrying across the smooth courtyard tiles with a restrained, Vulcan haste she had seen many times before. Some wore the neat blue or brown uniform typical of younger students, while others wore the flowing white robes reserved for those who had reached a high level of academic achievement. The clothing of the students varied, but Michael knew they all had one thing in common. They had not managed their studies in an efficient manner, and were now rushing to complete tasks that would most likely remain uncompleted.

As she walked across the plaza some of the students who she was familiar with acknowledged her passing with a slight nod, while others attempted to avoid her gaze, indicating to her they knew that she was aware of their deficiencies. She smiled slightly as she noted to herself that she had never, in her five years of attendance at this school, put herself in the situation where she needed to rush across Volkots Plaza, squinting into the evening sun, on the last day of the school year.

She continued her walk across the plaza until she finally stood at the doorway that secured entry to Betvad Hall. The doorway rose high above her, its imposing angular lines a reminder to all students of its purpose as the barrier and demarcation point between two very different sections of Vulcan society. Between those that command and those that obey… and it was not a place ordinary students were usually permitted to enter. The thought that she would soon be walking its corridors caused her anxiety to increase. To calm herself she turned to look back at the plaza. Beyond the scurrying students she could see the skyline of Nadivk. A jagged line of structures rested along the horizon. She was pleased to see that they were mostly colored a deep grey-blue, as she had expected they should be when lit by the early evening sun's rays. She knew that not one of the other students could predict the day's colors as she could. She was an unusually accomplished and accurate student, and so she should have nothing to fear from any meeting with any important person that was in Betvad Hall. She took a deep, relaxing breath, and then she turned to directly face the doorway.

"Michael. Student," she stated to the door.

She watched the door silently slide open. She proceeded across the threshold, and then listened to the sounds of the plaza dying away as the door closed behind her. As the door finished closing she became aware that she was now standing within total silence. And total stillness. She could see no life anywhere as she looked all around the cavernous interior, and she felt very alone.

She commenced walking towards the transporter bay that was positioned at the end of a long hall. The structures that now surrounded her were unlike any she had ever seen before. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, were not unadorned as was customary. Instead most parts were covered with the old script Vulcan lettering. She could not read it, but it looked to have been very carefully written, so she supposed it said things of great value. And there were statues standing along the entire length, and on both sides, of the hall. Statues of Vulcans. She had never seen a Vulcan statue before. She smiled to herself when she mused that perhaps she had never seen any Vulcan statues because they had all been captured and imprisoned here as permanent guardians of this important place. She walked up close to one statue, and looked into its face. Its face peered back at her, and she was suddenly gripped with an intense feeling that its lifeless, stone eyes were seeing, and judging, everything about her. For some reason, the eyes of the statue made her feel like an unwelcome intruder, and so she quickly backed away from it and continued her walk along the hall. She arrived at the transporter bay, positioned herself correctly, and said, "Rasold sa Kimmet, section 43, level 98." When the transport was complete she was standing and facing the person she had come to see.

The Vulcan sat at a wooden desk… which was strangely cluttered with small statues of ancient Vulcan leaders. She surmised that he liked to hold and move the statues often, and had so far neglected to place them back into their correct, and more orderly, positions. On the wall behind him was the insignia of the Vulcan Academy. Its ancient black and white lettering was incomprehensible to her. For some reason, no student had ever been told what the words on the insignia meant.

She did not know who this man was... only that her mother had been able to arrange a meeting with him. But it was logical that he was a person of importance who would be able to solve the errors. She took a few steps towards him, and in response he looked up at her and leant forward, his crossed arms that rested on the desk making a scratching sound on the wood as he moved. She looked closely at his face, and observed it to be particularly stern, even for a Vulcan. Michael detected none of the protective warmth that many older Vulcans displayed towards her. He looked angry, and he frightened her. But she was not there to be frightened, so she spoke to him with loud confidence.

"There has been a mistake with my examination results," she said.

He stared back at her, his eyes as still and lifeless as those of the statues that guarded the hall, and he replied, with slow certainty, "I don't think so."

"Yes, there has been," Michael insisted. "I received a fail grade, but I know that I passed. I got all the answers correct. I know it. I didn't guess anything. I wasn't unsure of anything. I can do the exam again if you don't believe me. You can ask me any question from any exam of the last hundred and forty years. I know every answer."

Michael finished her speech and examined him, searching for signs of some subtle Vulcan reaction. She watched as he proceeded to bring his hands together in front of himself and then she heard tapping as he began knocking rhythmically on his desk. Michael was not sure what this behavior might be a sign of.

"One hundred and forty years of the same exam," he said. "That's a good number for you to remember. One hundred and forty years of error free examinations. And now a thirteen year old human has discovered a fault in the system. I think even you are capable of understanding how implausible your accusations are."

"I'm not making accusations," Michael corrected. "I don't want anyone to be disciplined for the error. I only want my correct examination results recorded so I can be placed in the Captain's training program. This would be in accordance with the rules of Vulcan education first established by Sardok in the Gemia province of Balconiv."

"Quote the proclamation," he demanded.

Michael took a deep breath and began, "According to the proclamation of Sardok, in order to ensure the most logical efficiency of complex systems all Vulcans are to be tested in equality of circumstance and assigned to positions of usefulness in harmony with their abilities."

"Are you a Vulcan?"

"No," Michael replied. "Why is this relevant?"

"You look confused. The proclamation says 'all Vulcans'. So by logical extension... it does not apply to you. Does it?"

Michael answered, "In Vulcan Year 3290 the proclamation was updated to apply to all who took the exams. It no longer applies to Vulcans only."

"Vulcan proclamations do not need to be updated and they do not need to consider humans. They took centuries to perfect and will last – unaltered – for centuries to come. Only a very few Vulcans accept any updated proclamation. And, fortunately, those Vulcans are not the ones at this school."

Michael had heard people say such things many times. Vulcans naturally doubted her abilities. She understood why they had a low opinion of her. Most humans did not have her abilities. She had argued with many people about this issue. She had always won the battle of wits with them. Which in itself proved her logical superiority. She could do so again. Even with an adult of such authority as this one.

She straightened her arms and placed them close to her sides, in a standard military stance, and began her argument. "I have learnt... in my time living here... that Vulcans value efficiency. The most efficient course of action in any situation is to use all of the best available resources. The people of any society are among those resources. Therefore the correct use of the abilities of the people -"

"Stop," he said, holding up his hand. "I have only ever met one human. Your mother."

"Stepmother," Michael corrected.

He continued, "I have had some pleasant conversations with her. On occasion she has greatly surprised me with her sharp mind. But... she displays constant emotional instability. She becomes agitated and confused, and then having a cup of tea calms her nervous condition. It's very strange."

"Yes, I know," Michael agreed.

"I forgive it, of course. She is human. But I would not want her in command of a starship. Or in any position of authority within the Vulcan fleet. Do you understand what I'm saying to you Michael?"

He looked at her, his harsh face softening for a brief moment. But she also noted something in his eyes that she had seen many times before. Condescension. A belief in his own superiority. And she understood exactly what he was saying to her.

Michael looked directly into his arrogant eyes. She hardened her face, steadied her voice, and replied, "My stepmother was raised human. I have been raised Vulcan. We are not the same. I am as logical and emotionally controlled as any Vulcan. Many high ranking Vulcans have told me I am as good as any Vulcan. My exam results show them to be correct. This is why I scored a perfect result on my exam. This is why I need to have my results corrected so I can commence on the Captain's training program at the Academy."

The Vulcan leaned back into his seat and stared at her with an increased intensity. He sat like that for a few moments, and then he slowly said, "Would one of these high ranking Vulcans who encourage you be your stepfather Sarek?"

Michael steadily returned his gaze and remained silent.

"Well Sarek cares about you. He cares about humans in general more than is normal for a Vulcan. He married one... didn't he? I believe they have a child together. Of course he would give encouraging words to you. Vulcans are a kind and fair people. But none of those who have been too well disposed towards you ever seriously considered that their kindness would lead to this problem."

"You mean the problem that a human is as good as a Vulcan? Actually... better than most Vulcans."

"You are not as good as a Vulcan," he replied harshly. "You will never have the logic, the strength, the emotional control, of a Vulcan. It would be a disaster if you ever obtained the command of a Vulcan starship. The problem is the exam. The exams are made to test Vulcan command abilities only. They cannot be a fair indicator of human behavior. They do not test for emotional instability, lack of stamina, untrustworthiness... many of the human deficiencies." He leaned towards her slightly and said coldly, "The exam cannot accurately test... you."

"Sarek thinks the exams are a fair test," she protested. "He's helped me to study for Vulcan exams my entire life. He knows everything about the exams and he knows all the personal qualities that a starship Captain should have. He's on the High Council and is Second Commander of a fleet of starships." She paused, and then stated firmly, "which you are not."

She looked at him, and he looked back. She knew that insulting a high ranking Vulcan official was forbidden for a thirteen year old student, but she was determined to correct the exam mistake, and would not back down.

She continued, "Sarek is superior to you in his knowledge, rank, and logic. He is better able to determine the validity of the exam than you are. You have made a mistake. This is an illogical, inefficient, and unfair denial of my accomplishments. I'll talk to Sarek about it when I get home."

"Then I'll see if I can talk to Sarek about it before you do," he replied. "As you have just so eloquently informed me... he has so many important duties, doesn't he? With his busy schedule he may not have been sufficiently informed about your current situation. Have we finished?"

"I've said all I need to say."

"It's late. You can use my transporter to go directly home."

"Thank you for hearing my concerns." She waited for only a brief moment before she was beamed out of his room and back into her own.

oo oo oo

The pain in Michael's legs was a growing distraction. She looked down at her feet. They ached from her many hours of standing. She knew that she should be sitting at her desk and studying. She still had many more texts to memorize, and it would have been a more efficient use of the last five hours if she had done that study. Instead she had continued to stand at her window and observe the Vulcan skyline. During this time the first moon had risen and fallen, and the second moon was now just beginning to show its blue glow. She had tried sitting, but some tension that she could not overcome was preventing her from remaining seated in her chair. Her stepmother had come into her room and suggested that it was the unresolved situation regarding her incorrect exam results that was the problem. They had discussed what was to be done, and they had both come to the conclusion that the situation could only be resolved when Sarek returned home. So she now was waiting for Sarek's knock on her door.

The knock came just before the second moon had risen completely.

"Enter," Michael called out. She turned towards the door as it opened to reveal Sarek standing in the doorway, clothed in the elegant yellow robe that the highest commanders always wore. She straightened her back and attentively raised her chin as she watched him enter her room. She studied his face, which, according to many Vulcans, displayed all the wisdom of the Nine Ages of Elders. He stopped two meters in front of her and looked down. His eyes connected with hers, and she saw in them the protective parental concern that she had always relied on.

"Young Michael. I was informed that there is a problem," he said.

"Have you fixed it?" she asked eagerly. "Did you talk to that man? He said he would meet with you and ask your advice."

"Yes... we have talked," Sarek replied. "This issue has caused a great deal of concern to many people."

"What issue? The mistake with my results? The logical thing to do would be to correct the mistake and the problem will then be solved. They should also naturally investigate the cause of the mistake so that -"

Sarek abruptly interrupted her. "The issue is more complicated than you may understand."

"What complication?" Michael asked.

Sarek took two steps closer towards her, paused, and then said, "The exams for the Captain's training program are not simply a matter of answering questions. There are considerations of the character of the student. Not every student, no matter how extensive their knowledge may be, will be found suitable for training towards a position of starship command."

Michael protested, "That's not true! Vulcan exams are completely about answering the questions correctly. If a candidate scores highly enough they will proceed to the next level. It always works like that."

Sarek's face did not soften into the smile of agreement that she was expecting to see. He remained without expression.

"You are incorrect," he replied. "There are rare exceptions to this procedure. Unfortunately... you are one of those rare exceptions."

"Why am I an exception?"

Sarek turned his head slightly away from her, so that she could no longer see his eyes, and said, "I occupy a high position. But I do not control Vulcan society. I have little influence regarding training procedures. I can only convey to you the information that has been given to me."

"So tell me."

"The Academy is of the opinion that a human, no matter how qualified, would never be able to give commands in an effective manner within the Vulcan system."

"Because they think I have uncontrolled emotions, such as my stepmother has? Did you not tell them that I have been raised Vulcan and I no longer have those human faults?"

"No... I did not tell them that," Sarek stated.

"Why did you withhold that information?" Michael asked loudly, "You're well aware of my abilities. You are the one who has told me for as long as I can remember that I am as good as any Vulcan. That if I work hard enough I can be as logical as any Vulcan. I'm better than most Vulcans. I passed the exams when others could not. My emotional control is near perfect. I have met many Vulcans who become angry in situations when I do not. I have seen them break objects and talk loudly with their frustrations. I do none of these things. With the right training I could one day become the best starship Captain. The Vulcan fleet would be improved if it had some commanders from other species. You have said that to me many times."

"I was mistaken to say that to you," he replied, without emotion. "It is my error. As your guardian I care about you and want to encourage your efforts. But I did not think a situation such as this would ever arise."

Michael was not sure what situation he referred to. But, after a few seconds, a dark and heavy thought started to rise within her, and then she heard herself speaking this thought out loud. "You did not think that I could pass the exam? You did not really believe that a human can be as good as a Vulcan?"

"You're as good as a Vulcan," Sarek said firmly, "but you're not the same as a Vulcan. You never can be. The first duty of the Academy is to ensure the strength of the Vulcan fleet."

Sarek turned away and started walking towards the door, but stopped after he had taken only a few steps. He turned around to face her once again, and said,

"You can never rise to any position of command in the Vulcan fleet."

Michael heard these words, but remained silent. She did not know what to say. She stood there looking up at him, until finally the true situation became clear in her mind, and then she said softly, "You lied to me."

He returned her gaze. His eyes looked the same as they always did. But for the first time since she had known him she did not interpret this look to be one of fatherly concern. She now saw a pair of arrogant Vulcan eyes that were analyzing her face.

"I can see you are stressed," he said. "Perhaps you should have a cup of tea. For some reason drinking tea always calms your mother. It may do the same for you."

Sarek turned for the final time and left the room. She watched the door silently close behind him.


End file.
